


Ride or Die

by Lady_Red, rogue_1102



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Human Trafficking, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Motorcycles, Organized Crime, Undercover, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25450801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Red/pseuds/Lady_Red, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogue_1102/pseuds/rogue_1102
Summary: Tights is on the trail of a hot scoop but, in order to get the information she needs, she’ll have to go undercover and see this criminal underbelly firsthand. Little does she know, an unexpected surprise is in store for her when she catches the attention of a hardened biker named Ray.
Relationships: Tights Briefs/Raditz
Comments: 15
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Don't Leave Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22220206) by [Lady_Red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Red/pseuds/Lady_Red). 



> Trigger warning: this story has implied references of violence, abuse and non consensual sex toward women. Read at your own risk.

You can do this. 

It will be easy. 

There's a story to tell, but no one wants to tell it but you. 

You'll make them care. 

You'll make them see. 

You're Tights _Fucking_ Briefs. 

She kept repeating the mantra over and over in her head anytime the fear threatened to choke her. She had been in foxholes, and interviewed fascist dictators but those seemed like walks in the park compared to this self-imposed assignment. As she looked at the terrified faces of the young women, girls really, that sat around her, she could not help but feel a kinship with these lost creatures. 

It wasn't long ago that they were loaded up into this windowless van. Her informant, a truly detestable pimp by name of Jaco, had managed to include her into his latest delivery to the ruthless and deplorable "Rough Riders" - the known muscle of the Pilaf crime family. 

She hadn't expected a tube top and barely there mini-skirt to be a part of her undercover ensemble but, she had to play the part if she didn't want to be discovered. These biker types didn't allow outsiders in, otherwise she would have approached them the good ole fashioned way. This sort of subterfuge was necessary, or at least that's what she told herself. A girl, Anya, started to cry and speak in her native tongue. Tights couldn't decipher all of it; however, she was certain there were pleas for her mother interlaced with the sobs. 

Tights stood, wobbling a bit on her heels and sat next to the girl before placing an arm around her. "It will be alright. I look out for you, and you look out for me. We'll help each other."

"I just wanted better life," the woman bawled into her hands and Tights nodded as she rubbed the shivering woman's arms. She pulled her shoulders back, and pushed down her own trepidation. These women needed her to fight for them, and she wasn't going to let them down. 

The van suddenly lurched forward as it braked severely and a few girls let out a startled scream. They heard the crunch of gravel underneath leather cowboy boots and doors at the back of the van flew open, revealing Jaco, who eyed them shrewdly. "Listen up. Don't embarrass me in there. My client and I go way back, and if any of you give them lip or don't do as you're told, don't be surprised when they give you the back of the hand. Just shut up and listen. They want to touch you, let them. They want to get a little rough, you take it. No crying."

He stepped back away from the van, "Now get out." The girls were hesitant for a second and Jaco rapped the top of his cane forcibly on the floor of the van. The girls jumped and slowly made their way out of the humid van. Tights gave Anya one last squeeze before letting her go and following after the women. She met Jaco's gaze and he didn't say a word but his expression said everything... _you're on your own._

Tights carefully stepped out of the van, her ankles precariously swiveling as she tried to find her balance and she glanced up at the wooden bar, blaring brightly into the night. In front of them, a solid looking metal door stood. Jaco rapped the door with his cane and a panel slide to the side to reveal a pair of fearsome looking eyes. Jaco, however, was unperturbed and announced their delivery with the type of nonchalance that Tights could easily place in a butcher's shop. That's really all they were - meat for consumption. 

The girls shivered next to her, both from the chilled air and from apprehension. The panel slide shut again, and the heavy door opened to reveal the bustling bar. Smoke and booze permeated the air and, as Jaco practically pushed them inside, suddenly every eye in the room was on them.

 _Rough Riders. That's certainly an understatement,_ she thought, as she surveyed the room. Practically every corner had some type of debauchery or vice and there were plenty of weapons in plain view. Tights gulped nervously but knew that these young ladies needed her to show no fear or else it would be bad for all of them. She pasted on what she hoped was a seductive smile and walked forward. The girls followed, obediently. Catcalls were hurled at them, along with rough hands and hungry looks. Tights tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes, blowing flirtatious kisses into the air at her admirers.  
  
As she went further in the room with the other women, men in their matching leather jackets scoped them out, but many of them returned their focus back to her. She casually glanced at the other women with her and she noticed immediately one thing- she was the only blonde.  
  
She walked past a pool table when she was suddenly grabbed around her upper arm, and she nearly stumbled in her shoes. She looked up to see a red-faced man with a black bandana tied over his head leer at her. "Why, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes," the man said as he licked his chapped lips, his eyes roaming over her figure. 

"Hey, I saw her first." Tights turned her head to see another man join them, this one was short, lanky yet had a beer belly. Tights nose wrinkled when he came closer and the stench to stale sweat and BO hit her nose. He reached up to twirl a lock of her hair over his finger.

"You know, we don't get too many blondes. Do you mind if we check to see if they're natural?" The man's gaze led down to her lap and Tights fought the urge to gag. She cleared her throat, her tongue ungluing from the roof of her mouth to give her false Russian accent, "Boys, if you look now, vhere vould be surprise later?" 

"I love English accents, they're so sexy," another man said beside her and she turned to look to see that two new men had appeared. One reached out to touch her neck and trailed their fingers down the small bones of her spine, making her shudder with disgust. "Thank you," she said, trying to calm her racing heart.

"Come here, sugar...and sit on daddy's lap." came another voice, just as repugnant as the last few ones. Someone's hand grabbed her ass and squeezed while a totally different hand tried to lift up her skirt. "Boys! Boys! You 'aft to share." She crooned and attempted to pull away from the groping hands. "There is only one oft me, and so many oft you." She leaned down and planted a kiss on the cheek of one of her admirers, her lips leaving a ruby imprint on his skin, and pushed her breasts together with her arms. 

The girls, likewise, had been snatched up by their admirers. Some looked less nervous and prettily played the part. Others were on the verge of tears but were holding them back for fear of retribution from either Jaco or their clientele. "Don't worry, English Rose, you'll be shared plenty. But I'm gonna get my fill first," came a rough and silky voice from behind her. Tights turned and found herself face to face with a massive chest. Her eyes traveled up, and up, until they met a harsh expression and coal black eyes.  
  
Tights' chest bloomed with cold fear as she stared into the large man's eyes, he was nothing but hard muscle underneath his black t-shirt and leather jacket. The men that surrounded her quickly jumped back when they noticed his presence, releasing Tights in an instant. "Ray, you already got yourself a blonde. Leave something for the rest of us." One of the men complained, but Tights noticed no one made a move to touch her.  
  
The man, Ray, shrugged, "Yeah, well I want to try a different flavor." He reached forward to take her chin between his finger and thumb to lift her face up for him to inspect. "I have a feeling this one will be sweet." Tights tried to calm her growing alarm as the man grabbed her wrist, giving her look to dare her to say a word as he led her away from her admirers toward the back of the bar. 

He opened a door that led to a flight of stairs and Tights nearly broke her ankles trying to keep up with the large man. She saw a hallway of doors and he took the nearest one, pushing her inside before he slammed the door and locked it. Tights looked around the sparse room, her heart galloping in her chest when she saw the bed and, beside it, some toys she would rather not imagine what they were for. She felt Ray come up behind her and push her blonde locks to the side, baring her neck to him. She shivered when he trailed his nose along her bare throat, sniffing her deeply. "You definitely smell as nice as a rose."  
  
She closed her eyes and willed herself to stand still. The heat from his body warmed her chilled skin and a hum of approval came from above as he ghosted his fingers over her flesh, stopping at the appropriate curves and cupping gently.

"You vant I should show you good time, Big Boy?" She stuttered out, her voice threatening to crack and her accent faltering under the strain. At the sound, he stopped his perusal and took a step back. 

Immediately, Tights felt goosebumps cover her skin both from the returned chill and because she was certain she knew what would be asked of her next. 

"Turn around and look at me." He said after a moment. Slowly, she turned around and looked at him again. His mouth was pressed into a cruel line, and his eyes were ruthless. He held her gaze, locked on like a shark tasting blood in the water, and flicked his eyes downwards towards his belt. Tights took a deep breath to steel herself and moved forwards, her hands trembling as she fumbled with the belt buckle and fly of his jeans. Tears began to prick the sides of her eyes but she dutifully began to reach inside his boxers and kneel, swallowing hard to prevent from gagging. 

"Oh, for fucks sake!" She heard him say and suddenly she was on her feet again. She looked up, confused, and saw Ray stare back at her with an annoyed and nonplussed expression on his face. 

"Did I do -" 

"Save it, sweetheart," he hissed under his breath as he fastened his jeans. "If I hadn't stepped in, you'd be on your back split seven ways from Sunday. Who do you work for?"

"I don't know vhat-" 

"Oh, fuck me. Give the Russian-mail-order-bride act a rest. Who are you, really? If you don't tell me, I'll just have to send you back to the wolves."  
  
Tights stared at him a moment, indecision on her mind and, as she opened her mouth to confess, she quickly closed it. The man nodded, "Right. You had your chance." He turned on his heel and made his way for the door. 

Tights panicked, "Wait!"  
  
Ray had his hand on the knob when he turned, looking at her expectantly and she licked her lips nervously. She felt her body shake as she tried to find the words to explain. "I... I'm a reporter," she said softly, the accent melting away to reveal her own city bred tones.

Ray let go of the door knob and turned to fully face her, leaning heavily against the door. He crossed his arms as he assessed her with a stony look that sent chills down her spine, "Go on." 

Tights crossed her arms over her chest in a protective manner, looking down at the floor to avoid his sharp scrutiny. "I heard rumors that the Rough Riders have their fingers dipped into all sorts of pies - drugs, extortion. Human trafficking... particularly of foreign women that have entered the country illegally.” 

"So what? You decided to just waltz in and get the scoop? Fucking moron," he cursed as he ran and hand down his face. 

Tights glared at him, "No one else was willing to do anything." 

"Did you ever think that _maybe_ you might become one of these women? Huh?" He asked as he pushed off the door to approach her. 

She gave him a determined look, " _Maybe_ , but I had to try." 

He scoffed, "Well, trying isn't good enough. Now you're stuck here and the only way you're getting out is if you're willing to swallow cock or getting that pretty throat slit." 

Tights felt the edges of her eyes warm again, "That can't be...."

"What? Your only options? Forget it, Beautiful. You wanted in? Well now you got what you wanted and it's time to pay the piper," he retorted, his voice lowered in a heavy threat.

The room seemed to blur as a big hand wrapped around her wrist and unceremoniously threw her towards the stained bed in the corner of the room. She stumbled on her heels and landed with her hands on the mattress, her breath coming out in quick pants. She gulped, feeling the heat rise to her chest when she felt his big presence behind her once again. 

Unlike before, his touch was not gentle but purposefully rough and haphazard. One hand wrapped around the back of her neck, its unyielding grip coupled with the strength of his arm forced her to remain downward while his other massive hand firmly groped her ass and kneaded its taut flesh with his steel-like fingers. Tights was certain there would be bruises there later. However, she pushed that wayward thought from her mind when, slowly, the slip of fabric that was her skirt was peeled upwards revealing her lace black thong to his gaze. His murmur of appreciation caused the uncomfortable heat in her chest to rise to her cheeks and she gasped when a firm smack landed across on the tensed muscle. His condescending chuckle infuriated and intimidated her at the same time.

"P-please don't..." she begged with a shaky voice.

Suddenly her face was shoved into the mattress, the stale smell of sweat and sex made her gag and she struggled to move as he kicked her legs wider apart. 

He smacked her bare flesh again, "What did I say? You came in here, expecting everything to go smoothly like a fairytale. Well, hate to break it to ya but there is no happily ever after." His hand slid over and around her hip as he gripped her mound roughly. She cried out, gripping the sheets while her body trembled. Ray laughed darkly, "You want to know what it's really like to be a whore for the Rough Rider? I'll be happy to educate you."

Ray pressed himself harder against her ass and she squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for what was to come, a tear slid down her face as she stifled her sobs in her throat...

She heard an exasperated sigh over her and he suddenly released her, tugging down her skirt. "Dry your tears and get up."

Tights let out a heavy breath of relief, using the back of her hand to wipe away her eyes and smeared her mascara in the process.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calming the shuddering of her shoulders and her rapidly pounding heart. Her mouth felt dry and stale - like fear. She’d tasted it before, but she’d always persevered, and she would here as well. 

Tights rose from the mattress and squared her shoulders before turning back around to face her tormentor. There was a smug look on his face, one that mirrored millions of male faces that had ever said ‘I-told-you-so’. It angered her. The fact that she had allowed this to happen to her, that this happened to countless other women who didn’t have the luxury of walking away...angered her. Without thinking, she reeled back the flat of her hand and let it fling wildly towards his face.

_Smack!_

The sound, similar to when he had struck her, echoed in the room and for a moment the two of them stared at each other incredulously. 

_Remember, you're Tights Fucking Briefs,_ she thought and looked up at him, steely eyed determination flashing across her honeyed brown pools. To her surprise, Ray started to laugh and rubbed the side of his jaw with an almost impressed appreciation.

“Well, you’ve sure got guts, sweetheart.” He said with a small smirk and a slight raised eyebrow that caused Tights to momentarily drop her guard. No sooner had she relaxed than he invaded her space and pushed her up against the wall. “That sort of behavior is gonna get you killed but...”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted him, and they both turned their head towards the sound.

"Saved by the bell," Ray smirked before hauling her up against him to give her a loud peck on her lips and let her go just as abruptly. "I guess our time is up, sweet cheeks."

He went to the door, quickly unlocking it to pull it open and revealing Jaco. "If you're done having your fun, I need the girl back downstairs." He tried to look over at Tights but Ray blocked his view.

Tights quickly patched up her face without the use of a mirror, wiping away the evidence of her tears from her cheeks. "You're no fun, Jaco. I was just getting started," Ray leaned heavily against the door frame.

"You can play with your food later, _if_ you buy her. Now move aside," Jaco's voice left no room for argument and he punctuated his words with a swipe of his cane.

Ray raised his hands in surrender, "Alright, don't get your panties in a twist. Kami knows your balls haven't dropped yet."

Tights moved over to the door to see Jaco glare murder at Ray and she cleared her throat, "I'm ready."

Jaco turned to her and he suddenly frowned. He reached into his inner pocket of his fur jacket and tossed a mirror at her, which she stumbled to catch. "Clean your fucking face. Just because you were raped, doesn't mean you have to look it."

She glared at him, but quickly tidied up her face. Ray moved away from the two of them, clearly intending to head back downstairs; however, Tights jumped when she felt a sharp pinch on her ass when he walked by her followed by a saucy wink over his shoulder. “See you downstairs, Beautiful. Don’t forget to smile for the crowd.” He said, the mocking tone returning to his voice.

“I hate that guy.” Jaco mumbled as he took the compact from Tights and ushered down the stairs where the gang had gathered. 

The rest of the women were there, lined up next to each other by the wall in the back with lights glaring down on their forms. Tights caught Anya’s eyes and nodded, hoping to give the girl some reassurance, before taking her place in the line up. 

“All right, gentlemen! I don’t need to explain to you how this works.” Jaco announced and then pointed to the first girl. “Let’s start with this beauty with the blue eyes.”

Within seconds bids began to be called with Jaco acknowledging some or encouraging more zeni to be placed down with a zealous flair. Tights had to admit he was a natural showman, despite his skeevy nature. She took a moment to look at the crowd, cringing slightly at the hungry looks directed at her. Without meaning to, her gaze landed upon Ray who was sitting at the bar talking with a tall blonde woman with a red bow in her hair...or rather she was talking at him and he seemed to be barely paying attention despite her obvious attempts to draw his focus back to her. His eyes were locked onto hers and he smiled, the expression hungry and teasing at the same time.

"Don’t forget to smile _,_ " he'd said. Belatedly, she placed a smile on her face and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him slightly lift his glass in her direction before tossing his shot back with a grin.

Tights kept her eyes forward, locking her knees to hide her shaking form as Jaco drew closer, and decided to be bold, throwing kisses into the crowd who jeered in approval. 

Jaco stepped beside her and gave her ass a smack, "And here is our favorite of the night, Cosmo! Now, who wants this _tight_ number?" 

Tights mentally glared at Jaco at him for his play on words, but she had no time to dwell on it as, quickly, hands went in the air, men screaming at the top of their lungs with their bids as they leered at her and she felt that icy fear threaten to bloom in her chest again. She felt like cattle, a prized brood mare as she took in the rough, savage faces of the men who saw her as nothing but a doll with a pussy they could plow with no regard to her. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, when a strong voice rang throughout the crowd.

"500,000 zeni."

All eyes turned toward the bar where Ray tossed back the last of his drink and stood with a dark grin that almost seemed to beg someone to challenge him. He eyed the crowd, but many of the men looked away and Ray met Jaco's gaze, "500,000 zeni."

Jaco didn't even bother to look around the room for other bids and nodded, "Done."

"What the fuck, asshole!" The blonde woman behind the counter shrieked. "Do you think I'll let you buy some filthy whore?!"

Ray shrugged, "Didn’t think I needed your permission.” He glanced at her with a meaningful look, “Besides, wouldn’t be the first time I bought a _filthy_ whore.”

The woman shrieked as she tried to launch herself at him, but she was quickly stopped by men nearby, "It's over Ray! I won't be fucked over!"

"Really? Seems to me you've been fucked over plenty of times," he smirked as she screamed at him again. But he turned away from her, unconcerned, and approached Tights. He grinned at her for a moment before he picked her up with ease and tossed her over his shoulder, earning him cheers from his fellow brothers.  
  
Tights squirmed on his shoulder, trying to extricate herself from his grasp as she had seen many of the other girls do. As Ray headed outside, and she saw the bidding continue, her eyes landed on small Anya. The girl had been pulled into the lap of a massive bald man, and Tights could see the silent tears falling down her cheeks as he leered at her with beastly, and malicious, intent. Their eyes met and Tights felt her resolve harden as Anya wiped her tears, and any hope, away before turning towards her new future.  
  
You are here to tell their story. 

You will get through this. 

Remember, you're Tights _Fucking_ Briefs.


	2. Chapter 2

Scare her. 

Get her out. 

She’s in over her head. 

She shouldn’t see the horrors I have witnessed. 

This world is _filthy_. 

I shouldn’t even be touching her with my blood stained hands. 

Raditz, aka Ray, slammed the door behind him, his heavy boots grinding on the gravel with each weighted footstep and it took everything within him to refrain from sighing heavily as the woman over his shoulder wiggled around. He gave her bottom a smart slap, "Give it a rest! You’re worse than kittens in a sack."

"I can walk! Put me down!" Tights huffed at him with annoyance.

Raditz rolled his eyes, "Yeah, and I can always return you. No skin off my back and I can get my money returned."

The pretty blonde went silent, and he grunted in amusement. This woman’s actions were incomprehensible. He couldn't believe the stupidity of her coming here, alone, with no help. Women like her, pretty, naive and full of sunshine, got passed around like bones thrown to starving mutts. Rare gems, until they lost their shine and became nothing better than beggars who opened their legs for scraps, or died in the gutter. He'd seen it so many times before, and he was glad he caught her before someone else did. She was obviously a high-bred lady and had no business being here.

Raditz stopped at his bike and perched her down on his seat, taking off his jacket to put around her shoulders, "Take this. I got places to go and I'm not going to let my new prize freeze to death when I spent all that money."

The blonde cautiously took the proffered jacket and slipped it on, the bottom of it dangling mid thigh due to its large size on her small frame. He straddled the machine, the 1,133 cc engine roaring to life as he switched it on and revved the engine a couple of times before turning to look over his shoulder at the girl.

“Don’t even think about jumping off! Road rash would not be a good look on you, darling!” He said with a grin, and huffed when she wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her heeled feet on the passenger pegs behind him.

Without looking back, he peeled out onto the mostly vacant street. Traffic lights and the occasional pedestrian whipped by them, but he took no notice of either. He needed to get as far away from the clubhouse as possible. This blonde broad, altruistic though she may be, was a kink in his plans he didn’t need. How the fuck was he gonna keep her safe and keep his cover at the same time?  
  
The world of mafiosi was sordid and, every minute he immersed himself in its squalor, he wondered if he’d ever be able to fully wash off the stain that soiled everyone living in it.  
  
Being undercover, well, wasn’t something everyone could do.  
  
Even fewer were able to keep themselves not only immersed in the role, but also able keep their sense of self. It was a fine balancing act between doing what was necessary for the op, and making sure you didn’t tumble down the same bottomless well of sin. The top brass upstairs had put a lot of faith in him and his ability to get the job done. He wasn’t going to let them down. His orders: get close to the upper echelon of the Pilaf organization and obtain valuable intel, if possible. 

It hadn’t been easy. The Rough Riders had a vicious streak a mile long but, luckily for him, the man in charge seemed to take a shine to him after he mopped the floor with one of the top lieutenants. A couple of successful drug sales and smuggling ops later, and he’d managed to scrape a rep as a tough as nails badass that you didn’t want to cross. Plus, having that blonde firecracker who ran the bar as his side piece worked wonders for solidifying his status. By all rights, he shouldn’t have stepped out on a limb and risked it all for some bleeding heart slip-of-a-girl he didn’t know. 

He leaned into a sharp curve, the tires skidding briefly and then steered toward the parking lot of an abandoned steel works factory. No one ever came here, and he was confident that they would not be disturbed.

He slowed to stop when he reached the dark shadowy edges of the building and turned the engine off. The woman took her arms away as he stood to get off the bike and turned to face her. He regarded her for a moment as she tried to hide her apprehension when she looked at him. 

Her eyes, the color of amber honey, were warm and rich. Those blasted eyes had been his undoing the moment he looked up from his drink and caught sight of them. Color and vibrance seemed to return to his grey, dismal world the closer she stepped toward him and her eyes, those innocent fucking eyes, held fire, determination and, most of all, kindness. Those eyes weren’t meant to see the world that he now shrouded himself in and, before he knew what he was doing, he had left his chair to walk towards her. However the moment he heard her false accent, his instincts kicked in and a red flag went up in warning. 

Trouble. 

This woman was up to something, maybe a spy, and it was as transparent as her accent. 

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

He personally knew it well. Hell, he had “trouble” climb into his bed most nights. Launch had a fire in her eyes, it was reckless and wild, bordering on insanity at times. It could keep you warm or burn you to ashes. It’s what drew him to her at first, until he got tired of the wounds and scars; however, this woman was different. Her eyes had a clarity, her fire a focused flame that could cut through steel, and an intelligence that he knew could bring men to their knees before her. 

If he had been smart, he would have let the others have their way with her, but he didn’t want that. Deep inside he wanted her for himself under the pretense that he was protecting her, keeping a pretty little bird hidden away from the horrors. To avoid helping when it came time to wrap her pretty little body, bloodied, battered, and used, with rocks in black plastic before tossing her into the ocean to be forgotten like yesterday’s garbage.  
  
A chill ran down his spine at the thought. He would never get those lifeless eyes out of his head, and he knew hers would haunt him til the day he died if the same happened to her. 

He’d have to help her with her crusade and, if she was savvy with the resources that led her here, then maybe this could work. Plus, if she really was the reporter she seemed to be, then he could use her to take down the Pilaf family. Perhaps her work could make regular Joes and Janes out there care, and see these women not as cadavers but as people. She could make it impossible for the authorities above him to turn a blind eye. Then, finally, justice could be served.  
  
He sighed. One final look in her eyes and he knew this wasn’t going to be easy from a professional, or personal, point of view. He stepped closer to her, placing a hand on the seat between her legs and behind her, and leaned in close. She tilted back away from him and he frowned, " _That_. That right there needs to stop."

Her brows furrowed together, "What?"

He clicked his tongue in disapproval, "If you want my help, you can't jump out of your bones like I’m going to rape you at any second whenever I get close."

"You're..." She licked her lips nervously, her voice in disbelief, "You're going to help me?"

"Against my better fucking judgement, yeah, I'm helping you," he replied.

"Thank you," she smiled softly.

"Don't thank me. You don't even know what you'll have to do yet," he said, his voice so dangerously low that it wiped the smile off her face.

A concerned frown replaced the cautious smile, and he grinned at her reaction. This girl came in all balls and no brains, and now she was folding like a bad hand of poker. That had to change and, seeing no other option, he grabbed his jacket and pulled her forward. In a split second, his lips crashed against hers. 

The girl squealed in protest, and tried to push away, but his grip was firm. After a few more moments, he pulled away and raised an unconcerned brow at her offended expression.

“What did you think this was? Did you think that a girl, brought in like livestock, would be treated like an equal? Sweetheart, that’s not _this_ gig. You are my property now...plain and simple. Now, if I go in for a kiss...you don’t struggle like that.”

He didn't give her time to argue and brought his lips against hers again for a fierce and unrelenting kiss. He broke for a moment to let her breath and then he was on her again, displeased as her lips remained firm and unmoving against his own whilst he tried to knead them. However, after a while, she slowly began to reciprocate, letting her lips comply to his own. Her hands found their way to his arms, holding him gingerly as he coaxed her mouth to play. 

He moved his hands to gently cup her face, holding her in place as he guided her lips into a sloppy, but heated, kiss. Despite her easing into his attention, there was still a tension in her frame and comportment. Raditz pulled away and tsked in displeasure. “You gotta do better than that, Beautiful. You have to act like I'm best fucking thing you ever had between those pretty legs, even if I'm not." He chuckled darkly, "I'm your meal ticket, so you better learn to earn it."

She hugged herself and tried to look away, but he turned her head back towards him with the edge of a blade she had not seen him pull out. She stiffened, visibly, and her eyes focused on the razor sharp steel. Her breath stopped, and he saw the fear that he’d seen on many other girls before her. “No. You don’t look away.“ He said seriously, his voice low and cold.

“You look away, and it might be the last thing you ever do. Got it?”

The girl nodded, and brought her brown orbs back to meet his. Where before there was fear, resolute determination took its place. Good. She learned quickly. Maybe this wasn’t an exercise in futility after all.

He watched as her demeanor suddenly shifted. She licked her top lip and moved to stand up from the bike, swinging her leg over and exposing her lace covered crotch. His gaze dropped for a minute to get a glimpse, but then he felt her hands on his chest and he looked up to see her smile mischievously. Her hands trailed down his body as she pressed herself into him and her eyes twinkled with determination, "And where should I keep my eyes?" Raditz watched her carefully when he felt her hands on his toned belly. "On your eyes? Your muscles?"

She paused for a moment and suddenly she cupped him roughly through his jeans and he grunted. "Your cock?" She asked, stroking him through the fabric.

"I think you're..."

"Shhh," she hushed him, placing a delicate finger on his lips. "Isn't this what you wanted?" Her hand left his cock and went underneath the hem of his shirt, trailing over the defined ridges and she reached up to kiss his Adam’s apple.

Her moist lips continued to plant kisses along the ridge of his jaw and her pert breasts pushed into his solid chest as she straddled his lap, and rubbed her clothed crotch into his rapidly hardening groin. Raditz didn’t even stop the groan from leaving his throat when her plump lips found his again and took control, her tongue licking the seam of his mouth and then twisting with his. She tasted like pure sweetness, and he found himself wanting to taste more and more. This was not a good sign. He was already stepping towards the deep end with this so-called reporter, but he threw his normal caution to the wind for a moment. For once, he wanted to sample goodness for himself.

He moved his hand to encase one of her firm globes of flesh, kneading and enjoying the weight, and grinned into their kiss when he felt her nipple begin to poke through the fabric of her barely there top into his palm.

She hummed in approval in his mouth, aggressively twirling her tongue around his and he moaned alongside her. He forced his mouth away and kissed her along her slender throat, and he made a throaty sound when she trailed her nails down his chest. He swirled his thumb around her beaded nipple and kissed the top of the swells of her breasts. "As much as I'm enjoying this, if I wanted a dime-a-dozen whore, I would have stayed with the one I already had."

The woman is his arms froze and he looked up to find her glaring at him, "What? First I'm a terrified nun, and now I'm an alley whore!? What do you want?"

Raditz blinked at her words, snorted, and then burst into laughter, "You certainly have a way with words, I'll give you that, Miss Reporter."

She shoved at his shoulders in annoyance, and slipped off him, adjusting her itty bitty skirt, "Brute."

“Ray.” He corrected, with a chuckle. “You should learn my name, sweetheart. You’re going to be saying it an awful lot.” He took a moment to adjust his cock, which was now pressing against his zipper in a very uncomfortable manner.

The blonde shot him a look that could turn anti-freeze solid, and he had to stop himself from squirming underneath her gaze. “Fine....Ray.” She pulled his leather jacket further around her sumptuous body, and a silence settled between the two as he quickly checked his phone. Only a few new texts about shipments and jobs that were coming in, but nothing urgent. That was good. The less he was contacted the better. 

A sound caught his attention, and he looked up again to see her frown, a line settling between her finely shaped blonde brows as if she was contemplating something serious. “Perhaps...I shouldn’t call you by your name. Do you have a nickname or call sign that the group calls you? You seem like the type of guy who would make his side piece call him something.”

He scoffed and helped her back on the bike. As much as he hated to admit it, she had a point. Of course, now that she mentioned it...she hadn’t given him a name either. He felt her arms begin to wrap around him again, but he turned and leveled an inquisitive look her way.

"And what should I call you?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Didn't you hear it back there, I'm Cosmo," she frowned at him.

"Yeah, no. Da fuck I'm calling you that, try again. I need something I can call you without falling out of my chair laughing," he scoffed as he turned on the engine of his bike.

"Fine! How about... Danielle?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

"No, too long," he revved his machine.

"Audrey?"

"Boring."

"Stephanie."

"Too bitchy."

"Fine! Bulma."

Raditz looked over his shoulder, incredulously, his brows almost disappearing beneath his bandana, "The CEO? As much as I would enjoy that fantasy, don't even think about it unless you have blue hair and own billions.”

She seemed to take personal offense at that and huffed, "Then what should I use?"

"Something close to your own name," he stated and returned his attention to his bike.

"Fine, Tinker Bell," her voice was laced with annoyance.

"What am I? Peter Pan? Don't get cute."

"Tiffany."

Raditz shrugged, "Works for me... Tiff... or should I call you Fany?" He grinned over his shoulder.

"Jerk! Then Trixie!" She grumbled.

"Sounds like you're an acrobat in bed.... I kind of like that image..."

She smacked his shoulder, obviously no longer afraid. For reasons that he couldn’t even fathom, that realization brought a certain warmth to his chest. Maybe it was the fact that she was taking this seriously now, and he didn’t have to pour on the sleaze. Or maybe it was the way her brown eyes lit up when she got annoyed. She didn’t have a game face, that much was for sure, but her ability to adapt was impressive. His mind wandered back to how she rolled with what was thrown at her and he nodded, mostly to himself, before turning around again.

“Alright, _Trixie_. Where do ya live?”

The girl rolled her eyes and gave him an address on the swanky part of town. He snorted and drove through the city streets and back alleys. Of course she’d live there. Rather than be frustrated, he just did what he did best: improvise. This reporter was going to have to go balls deep in this life if she was going to make it out on the other side, intact.

He rolled up to her house, and she swung her leg over the side of the bike. He almost laughed at the complete look of surprise on her face when he proceeded to do the same and follow her up the stairs to her place. 

“What are y-?” She began to say, her eyes darting around as if to see if anyone was observing.

“Well, _Trixie_. You think a down on her luck, piece of meat is gonna have digs like this?” Trixie bit her lip and grimaced. Nope, she had not considered that fact, and it was very evident on her face. “That’s what I thought. Get some clothes and whatever you might need, except for electronics. You’ll be with me from now on.”

“No. I’ve got work to do.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and stared back at him.

Raditz scoffed and leaned on the railing of the porch. “No, your ‘work’ is being on my arm and making me look good. Remember? Look, this ain’t gonna be convenient towards your fancy urban lifestyle, Beautiful. You gotta be with me at all times...else it’s gonna be suspicious. Why would I lay down 500 thousand and not keep my investment close?”

She chewed on her lip, again, and drummed her fingers on her arm as she began to pace the porch and mutter to herself. He’d notice it was a habit she’d do when she was mulling over her options. It was cute, and made those naturally pink lips become a little redder and more enticing.

Raditz could barely make out her murmurs but rolled his shoulders and waited patiently for her reply. After a few moments of barely coherent muttering, she turned back to face him and huffed through her nose. “Wait here.” Trixie replied, without preamble, and strode into the little house. The door slammed, loudly, and Raditz could hear the sound of things being thrown about and muffled cursing on the other side.

Half an hour later, she emerged with a single backpack that looked like it’d seen better days. The overabundant make-up had been washed from her face, and her hair had been brushed into a relaxed ponytail. She’d also changed clothes into something a bit more practical - jeans, sneakers and loose T-Shirt, though his jacket still remained on her shoulders. Fuck...she looked good. _Really_ good. He almost didn’t recognize her, and Raditz took a moment to make sure his mouth wasn’t hanging open. 

“Took you long enough. Let’s go, Trix.” He said, finally finding his words, and pointed towards the bike. She sighed and tossed the backpack onto her shoulders, and started to move towards the bike. 

“Whatever my Ray-Ray wants, right?” She replied, tossing his sarcasm back at him with a sweet smile on her face.

“Don’t call me that,” he shot back with a frown, only earning a giggle of triumph for his trouble. This little _trick_ was going to keep his hands full, that much was very certain. 

She’s in over her head. 

She shouldn’t see the horrors I have witnessed. 

This world is _filthy._

I’ll make sure she leaves with as little grime on her as possible. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! We hope that you have enjoyed the story and will leave a comment for us! We really enjoyed working together on this collaboration and would like to know your thoughts!
> 
> Thank you lachanophobic and Black Swan for your beta skills!


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